


Cut to the Quick

by Cerusee



Series: Prompt fics [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Poor Bruce, Poor Everyone, Poor Jason - Freeform, THE INFAMOUS BATARANG, boy everyone really gets screwed at the end of Under The Red Hood don’t they, under the red hood AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerusee/pseuds/Cerusee
Summary: In an alternate universe where Chemo didn't fall on Bludhaven, and Bruce somehow managed to take an injured Jason home with him...Alfred realizes something deeply disturbing.





	Cut to the Quick

The boy on the bed breathed.

Thanks be to God, thanks be to—

There was a quiet knock on the door. “Come in,” Alfred said softly.

Dick entered, shutting the door quietly behind him. He looked exhausted. “Oh my God,” he said. “Is he going to—”

“I think so,” Alfred said. “I hope so.” Simple little sentences, so his voice wouldn’t crack.

“That’s _actually Jason_.”

“Yes. Master Bruce believes it. As do I.”

Dick rubbed his eyes. “Slade contacted me earlier. There was this plan, apparently...the Society was going to drop _Chemo_ on Bludhaven. He intervened. Wanted to let me know how close I came to dying, let me know that I owed him one. Can you imagine?”

“My Lord,” Alfred said. It was a shocking thought, even under the circumstances.

“Yeah.” Dick sat down, looking at Jason’s sleeping form. “I can’t believe it’s him. I can’t believe he did all of this.”

“No,” Alfred said. “It’s difficult for me as well.”

And it was.

It was hard for him to imagine that sweet child who he’d helped raise, torturing, killing, beheading people. It was hard for him to imagine Jason, Jason, who hated drugs so much he’d leave the room before he watched Bruce take painkillers, willingly taking part in Gotham’s drug trade. He couldn’t begin to imagine their conversation when Jason woke up.

Jason woke up.

He pawed at his neck. Alfred pulled his hand away. “Master Jason, no. You have a serious wound. Leave your bandages alone.”

Jason whimpered, and Alfred leaned over him, and brushed his hair away from his face. “You’ll be all right, my boy. Just lie still. Sleep. Heal. _And don’t touch your bloody bandages_.”

Jason managed to grimace an acknowledgment before he passed out again, and Alfred and Dick both breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ll sit with him, if you need a break,” Dick offered.

“Thank you,” Alfred said. “And you’ll take care of him?” It sounded foolish to his ears, but it was important. Yes, Master Jason was clearly broken. But he was still Alfred’s charge. And he clearly needed care.

“Of course,” Dick said.

***

“Master Jason briefly awoke,” Alfred announced, having tracked Bruce down in the Cave, still in his suit, hunched over the computer. Alfred didn’t think he was actually doing any work. “Master Richard is with him.”

Bruce grunted at him.

“His physical condition is not optimal, of course. The cut on his neck is deep, and it nicked his jugular. He’s lost a dangerous amount of blood.”

Another grunt.

“I’ve been puzzling over how he got that wound, since you mentioned that he had the Joker tied up the entire time.”

This time, Bruce remained silent.

“I wondered if perhaps he’d freed himself at some point, or if there had been other opponents in the fight. But I see no mention of either in the report you prepared describing it. In fact, the source of that injury is conspicuously absent.”

“Where are you going with this?” Bruce finally said, his voice heavy and dark.

“I also wondered if it could perhaps have been the work of a piece of shrapnel in the explosion. Or if he fell and cut himself on a piece of rebar. But I think not; the wound itself was clean and free of sediment. It suggests rather, a blade. A razor-sharp edged weapon of some kind.”

Bruce did not answer or turn to look at him. The silence stretched on, and on.

“How could you,” Alfred finally said. “How _dare_ you.”

Bruce twitched, and finally turned around. “I _had_ to,” he ground out. “I had to stop him somehow.”

“Why, sir? For the love of God, why?”

“Alfred, I could not _possibly_ stand there and let Jason kill a man right in front of me!”

“I understand, sir. But I think perhaps you could have made an exception for _that_ man. _It was the bloody Joker!_ And I tell you that the only reason that monster still walks the earth is that I have never been in the same room as him and a shotgun!” He realized he was shouting. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shouted at Bruce. He tried to modulate his voice. “I understand why you resuscitated the Joker when Master Richard beat him so terribly. Master Richard is like you; the burden of killing a man, even one so vile, would have cost him dearly. But sometimes I think you forget that for some, killing another is a weight they can bear.”

“No. Not Jason.”

“We know he’s taken lives before, sir. Many lives. Killing the Joker would not have been some great moral line for him to cross.”

“ _I know_.” Bruce’s voice was filled with anguish.

“I agree that what he has done is terrible. I agree that we couldn’t possibly let him go on like this. I agree that it has to stop; that boy is not in his right mind and he desperately needs help. But if there is one life I’m sure he would never come to regret taking, it is the Joker’s. Everything Master Jason has done, he’s done because he needed that.” 

“I—I can’t—” Bruce’s voice was shaking.

“And not only did you take that away from him, you chose to do it by _cutting your son’s throat_.” He gave it a moment to hopefully let it sink in. “I have never been so disappointed in you, Master Bruce.” He turned to go.

“Alfred—”

“And so you know, I won’t have you near him. Not like this. I will take precautions to make sure he isn’t out the door and returning to his...activities the moment he’s able, so you need not concern yourself on that account. But you’re not to come near him, do you understand me?”

“He’s _dangerous_ , Alfred.”

“I think you forget, sir,” Alfred said, grimly. “So am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: 
> 
> "I wish you would write a fic where... Alfred bitchslaps Bruce on Jason's behalf. I know you already kind of did an elegant call out roast with scherazehade but what can I say it's a mood. Just, Alfred."


End file.
